


Ikke uten deg

by i_gaze_at_scully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s02e19 Død Kalm, Post-Episode: s02e19 Død Kalm, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:32:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_gaze_at_scully/pseuds/i_gaze_at_scully





	Ikke uten deg

He reads what she wrote on the ship. He follows the slopes and planes of perfect cursive and hears it in her voice. He imagines himself in her position, watching her slip away and resolving himself to save her or die trying. Seeing her slip away like that, it wouldn’t be hard to make that promise. **  
**

They say they found them shoulder to shoulder on that bench, and he swears he remembers her sitting at the table writing when he fell asleep. He reads what would have been her last words and imagines her dragging herself over to him, weak and depleted, to die by his side.

“Mulder?” She repeats, standing in the office door on her way out, and he knows he’s missed something during his ruminations. When he looks up at her face, for a moment, he sees the wrinkles, the sagging flesh, the sunken eyes. In a flash they’re gone, the evidence of a drained and wasted life vanishing from her features, revealing the exquisite beauty of hope and vitality underneath.

Every time. Every time Death knocks on their door, all they can say is  _I almost lost you_  with tongues twisted in each other’s mouths. Sometimes it’s hours after, sometimes it’s weeks, but it’s every time. And this time’s no different.

He pushes his chair back from the desk and crosses to her in two, maybe three strides. Before she can process his intentions he’s got her face between his hands with the tenderness of a saint and the desperation of a sinner. She gives a brief hum of surprise into his mouth as he kisses her before reciprocating, dropping her coat and reaching behind her to shut the door.

“Mulder…” she challenges, her rational side using her voice while her id controls the rest of her. Her hands are in his hair and he presses her against the door. Her id wins.

“You didn’t give up on me,” he breathes onto her clavicle before ripping back her blouse to bite the flesh at her shoulder joint. “I was dead and gone,” he pants, feverishly aiding her in shedding that blouse, “and you still, you still…”

She pulls him in by the back of his head and crushes his lips to hers, her mouth open and her heart on her sleeve. “I almost lost you,” she whispers breathlessly.  _I almost lost you, too_ , he thinks.  _Too many times._

He bends his arm under her, sweeping her up around his hips with her back against the door. She clamps down on her lip to keep from crying out when his teeth come down hard at the swell of her breast. He marks her greedily and plainly for Death to see she’s spoken for.

She gasps when he drops her, long enough to lose his suit jacket as she makes quick work of his tie. Precise though her fingers are, there’s a roughness to her movements imbued with reckless abandon. She licks her lips as her pelvis gravitates towards his, moving in slow circles as he frantically unbuttons his shirt.

“How do you want me?” She murmurs with wide, hungry eyes that set his soul aflame.  _Alive_ , he thinks as he shoves folders and nameplates off the desk.  _Whole_ , he prays as he hoists her up onto it, skirt riding over her hips.  _With me, always_ , he begs, tearing her underwear aside and filling her in one stroke.

“Fu-” she cries before he covers her mouth with his hand. He pumps relentlessly as she whimpers against his hand, urging him on with the rhythm of her own hips. It’s a rhythm he’d like to know one day without the dissonance of adrenaline, loss, and fear in the orchestra, but for now he lets the crescendo take them both.

Breathing hard, she melts onto his shoulder. He kisses the bony part of hers, rests his forehead in the crook of her neck.

“I’d never… give up on you… Mulder,” she pants. He closes his eyes and tries to banish her many dying faces from his mind, along with the persistent voice that insists she should.


End file.
